


5 gifts between friends and 1 between more than friends

by yukiawison



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, I love these kiddos, Reverse Tropes, this is just an excuse to gush about Anne I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-17 13:21:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15462285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukiawison/pseuds/yukiawison
Summary: Anne Shirley-Cuthbert prides herself on her gift giving ability. Gilbert Blythe does his best to keep up.(A 5 times fic where the kiddos get increasingly soft.)





	5 gifts between friends and 1 between more than friends

 

1\. Christmas

After Christmas Anne Shirley-Cuthbert set her considerable powers of imagination on composing a gift equal (or greater than) Gilbert’s pocket dictionary. It was quite a lovely gift, she supposed, though in no way romantical as Marilla’s raised eyebrows suggested. In gift giving, as in spelling, Anne was not about to be outdone.

At first she decided she’d bake him something: a tart or a pie or a batch of cookies he could share with Bash. She imagined standing smugly at his doorstep with a basket of exquisitely decorated and perfectly scrumptious treats. But then she thought baked goods at Christmastime were too predictable. 

Then she thought maybe she’d write him something, a thrilling, and expertly crafted story to top anything else she’d written. She’d noticed him glancing at her, Ruby, and Diana once when they’d talked of story club at lunch. She’d get caught up in new adventure for the brave and beautiful Princess Cordelia, speaking rapidly and animatedly between bites of her apple, and whenever she snapped out of her bout of euphoric reverie she’d catch him staring. She’d think Gilbert Blythe was the rudest boy in Avonlea if he hadn’t smiled when she met his gaze. He quickly looked back to the book he was reading, but the smile had made Anne certain his staring wasn’t the mean-spirited variety of which she was often the subject. 

When it came down to it, however, she couldn’t think of the right kind of story to write. 

Her third idea was the perfect one. Anne was so certain of this that she set out early on New Year’s Day to bestow it. 

“I’ve a gift for Gilbert, Marilla,” she said briskly, heading to the door before breakfast was on the table. “I’m just going to run to his house and give it to him. I won’t be gone long,” she continued. 

Marilla, pan of eggs in hand, stopped her work to look at her. “A ridiculous errand this early in the morning? Why don’t you give Gilbert this gift at school, and at a sensible hour?”

“Oh, Marilla, it’s not a sort of gift you can’t bring to the schoolhouse. I’ll be happy to tell you all about it when I return, but first I really must give it to him. I’m already late, in that it’s a Christmas gift. Please Marilla, I couldn’t bare to let my chance slip...”

“Alright, alright child. Whatever strange business you have with Gilbert Blythe, you may see to. Don’t forget your scarf and be quick.” 

Anne leapt for her scarf and coat on their hook and waved thankfully to Marilla as she set out across the snow blanketing Green Gables. 

She arrived at Gilbert and Bash’s quite out of breath and entirely determined to deliver on her promise to herself of a completely superior Christmas gift. 

It took Gilbert a moment to answer the door. 

“Anne?” His hair was mussed, as if he’d only just risen, and his eyes looked dark with concern. “Is something the matter?”

“Oh no, nothing’s the matter. I have a late Christmas gift for you, a gift that requires your attention early in the morning. I do apologize for the hour, though I hope you’ll still be able to follow me. I have something to show you.”

He stared, eyebrows furrowing curiously. 

“The gift is in the showing,” she clarified. “Shall we?”

“Um...yes, of course.” He found his coat and shoes. “I didn’t expect anything in return, Anne. I hope I didn’t give you the impression that I did.” 

“You didn’t!” She amended, too quickly and too loudly. He stared at her again, with the amused half-smile she knew wasn’t mean, but couldn’t entirely make up her mind about. “Just follow me.”

The sun was just starting to rise as they stomped through the snow. It had snowed furiously the night before. In her bed Anne had counted down the new year with her eyes closed. If she opened them to take in all the wonderful things and people and feelings she had at Green Gables, she thought she might cry. 

Gilbert was a few paces behind her as she led him into the woods. She had the way planned out; she could remember every tree that marked twists and turns in her path to their destination. Each stood as a guardian to the gentle and the good who passed through the forests of Avonlea. She nodded her head to the stately oaks and elegant pines in thanks. 

“Is it much further, Anne?” Gilbert asked hesitantly. She turned around to look at him. The light was golden and the shadows of the surrounding brush danced on his face in a way that made her breathless to look at him. “Anne?” He repeated, head tilting to one side. 

“We’re nearly there,” she replied, whipping around before the sunlight and the forest could play any more tricks. “Stay quiet here and follow me very closely.” 

He did as he was told as they arrived at a fallen hollowed log. She bent down and peered inside the log’s opening. Inside, curled up with two auburn babies, was her fox. 

“I found them here on the way home from Diana’s house. I suspected they’d be here, asleep, in the earliest hours of the day. I’ve been testing my suspicion and coming out here before anyone else wakes up. Sure enough, they’re always here, in a heap. What do you think?”

She glanced over at Gilbert once she’d said her piece. He’d knelt down in the snow and was peering into the fox family’s log with a wide grin. “I think it’s amazing Anne. Thank you for showing me.”

She was being tricked again, tricked into thinking that Gilbert Blythe’s joy could take her breath away.

“You’re welcome,” she replied. “I mean, I thought your gift was considerate, and I wanted to find something for you. This seemed better than making you something or buying a gift in town. I trust you won’t tell the people after their pelts?” 

“I won’t,” Gilbert replied. “I swear.” 

“Good,” she said, satisfied. 

The forest was still for a moment, and when they looked to the log Anne’s fox had lifted its head to look back at them. Anne could feel her heartbeat in her throat as magnificent amber eyes looked at them evenly, without fear. 

“Happy New Year, Gilbert,” Anne whispered, gaze still fixed on her fox. She could feel Gilbert beside her, as tense with excitement and wonder as she was. 

“Happy New Year, Anne,” he returned. 

Marilla would scold her for standing out in the cold like this but she didn’t care. As they made their way back and parted ways, they could only speak of the magic of the forest at this time of day. Gilbert said he’d never seen a fox with such stunning red fur. Stunning was his adjective. 

That night, as she fell asleep, Anne imagined the whole morning over again. If she happened to linger on Gilbert’s cold flushed, gold lit, grin, it didn’t mean anything out of the ordinary. 

It certainly didn’t mean anything romantical.

 

2\. Help

His studies, extra lessons with Ms. Stacy, apprenticeship in Charlottetown, and the running of the farm with Bash made for long days. Any moment of reprieve or extra hour of sleep was a blessing for Gilbert, but so was the chance to impress Anne Shirley-Cuthbert. 

Anne had begun arriving at the schoolhouse early for extra lessons alongside him. He wasn’t surprised; she pursued every goal she set herself on with a dedicated and enthusiastic passion he envied and admired. He was sure she’d be a natural as a teacher with her kindness and patience and way of speaking, and with her work ethic he was certain she’d get there. The obstacles she’d faced thus far hadn’t seemed to slow her down. She just kept going. He was worried he was running out of energy. 

At night, when he was exhausted but his thoughts were swimming too chaotically for him to sleep, he thought about outwitting Anne in the next spelling bee or sitting with her at lunch or walking her home and holding her hand. Anne was just a friend, clearly, and when he was awake and logical and his thoughts weren’t a tired mess, the fact that they were nothing  _ more _ than friends made sense. His feelings just got confused sometimes. As of late he was only getting a few hours of rest every night.

One day, near the end of their morning session, they were working side by side at the blackboard as Ms. Stacy finished preparing the day for the rest of their classmates. They were working on two different problem sets. Gilbert was a fraction ahead of Anne in math due to his more consistent history of schooling. Though he had nothing on her when it came to English. 

She worked diligently beside him, only stopping to frown at her work and erase some with her fingertips. He was nearly finished, but she was getting frustrated. 

“Do you need some help?” He asked quietly, when her dramatic sighing and furious reworking became too much to ignore. 

“I  _ don’t _ ,” she said, folding her arms over her chest. “I just can’t...I just don’t know how to finish this one. It’s like I can’t get anything right today.” She stared down at her feet. 

“May I? I can just give you a hint, you know.”

“As a rival?”

“As a friend.”

Anne’s face flushed, but she nodded. “Okay then.” 

She stepped back so he could assess her work. He fixed a few things and then walked her through the first several steps in solving the equation. 

“Okay, so I need to multiply before I add, right?” He’d let her take the lead again, leaning on Ms. Stacey’s desk. He was already tired, and his vision swam for a moment as he looked over her correction. 

“Um, yes,” he replied, yawning. 

“Am I boring you, Gilbert?” She asked, indignantly. “Because last time I checked you offered your help. I suppose this is child’s play for you, but I’m actually trying to learn. Unless you just want to make fun of me?”

“Anne...”

“If you don’t want to help me then you don’t have to, Gilbert. I just thought you were...”

“Anne.” He stood up. “I’m never making fun of you. How could I make fun of you when you’re so…?” he stopped, words getting away from him. He wasn’t about to tell her everything he felt, right there, confusion and all. “And I’m not bored, I’m tired. I’ve been working all day after school on the farm and then getting up early to come here for lessons. I’m...”

“You’re wearing yourself out,” she said. It seemed they never let each other finish a sentence.

“I’m fine,” he muttered. 

“I’m sorry,” Anne replied. “I didn’t think about the stress you must be under.” 

“How do you do it?” He asked, swaying slightly as her face became blurrier and blurrier. 

“How do I do what, Gilbert? Goodness, sit down.” She reached out and took his hand, leading him gently to a desk. He sat. 

She put her hand on his forehead to check his temperature and his heart started pounding. 

“I’m fine, Anne,” he repeated. “Really.”

“Are you dizzy?”

“Just a little.”

“You should go home and get some sleep,” she said, voice soft and concerned. 

“Why? So you can get ahead of me?” he shot back, eyes burning.

“No, because you need it."

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said. Her hands were on his arms now, steadying him. 

“What question?”

“How do you do everything you do? You work so hard and you’re still so energetic.”

“Practice,” She said quietly. “And necessity. Before Green Gables I took care of families that I didn’t belong to. If I slowed down I was out of a place to sleep.”

Gilbert’s throat felt tight. He ran a hand through his hair. “Your math is right,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’ll tell Ms. Stacy. that you aren’t feeling well and I’ll walk you home.”

Now, he didn’t protest. Not when she insisted he lean on her if he felt dizzy again, and not when she held his hand as they climbed the steps to his house. 

“Rest,” she said sternly. And he felt grateful but stupid for letting her see him like this. 

“I was supposed to be helping you,” he said absently. 

“You did, Gilbert,” she replied. “As a true friend.”

Her hair was blurring into a fog of red again, but he smiled and nodded before she headed back. 

He sunk into his bed heavily and slept the rest of the day with no stress or confusion. 

He could keep pace with Anne Shirley-Cuthbert another day. And even if he couldn’t at least he could give her a helping hand. 

She’d given him too many to count.

 

3\. A Dance

Diana Barry sat cross legged on Anne’s bed and smoothed the wrinkles out of the beautiful new blue dress she was wearing. It had the most alluring of puff sleeves and delicate lace around the collar. Anne was of the opinion that the prettiest and kindest girl in Avonlea should have the loveliest dress to wear dancing. 

Anne (kind in her own right but homely as could be) was sorting through her meager selection of dresses and ribbons for Mr. and Mrs. Barry’s party. 

“Now that all the ill will over the gold business has faded, Mother thought it would be nice to host a party again, for all the families in Avonlea,” Diana explained, as Anne held up her usual party dress critically. 

“It’s an inspired idea on your mother’s part, Diana,” Anne sighed. “You would think something so beautiful would stay beautiful forever,” she continued. The dress was still her prized possession, of course, but the sleeves were starting to get too tight and short, and there was a tear in the lace.

“It’s a perfectly lovely dress,” Diana said, leaping up from her place on the bed. “And I’m sure he won’t notice anything the matter with it.”

Anne whipped around to look at her, standing there with an innocent expression. 

“Who do you mean  _ he? _ ” Anne shot back. 

“Gilbert Blythe,” Diana said, eyebrows quirking up. “You’re going to ask him to dance at the party, aren’t you?”

“Why would I do that?” 

“Because he’s handsome, and probably a good dancer, and he likes you.”

“We’re just friends. Why would he want to dance with me anyway? I’m not pretty and I don’t have the prettiest dress.” Anne threw the dress in question onto her bed dejectedly. 

Diana took Anne’s hands gently and looked her in the eye. “Anne, you’re the prettiest girl I know, inside and out.”

Anne smiled, just a little. “Oh Diana, can’t I just dance with you the whole night?” 

They laughed and twirled around Anne’s bedroom in a joyous daze. 

“You can,” Diana giggled. “Though I think Gilbert would object.”

The Barry residence was full to the brim with Avonlea residents. Diana’s mother had hired a violinist and cellist to play. They’d cleared furniture to the edges of the room to create a dance floor. Diana had proposed the idea to her mother, she reported to Anne proudly. 

Marilla told Anne to behave herself. Matthew gave her one of his trademark shy smiles, and she was dismissed to socialize. Diana made good on her promise of a dance. They spun effortlessly across the floor as Josie Pye and her underlings scowled and mocked. Young people were doing most of the dancing, although Mrs. Lynde and her husband had taken a turn themselves. 

“He’s here,” Diana said, swatting Anne’s arm. They were by the refreshments table now. Anne was still eating a strawberry tart.

Anne turned around to see Gilbert looking at her. Bash and Mary were close behind, already engaged in conversation with Marilla and Matthew. 

“He’s coming our way,” Diana said. 

“I can see him,” Anne said, rolling her eyes at Diana’s overly excited expression. She was very invested in her distorted idea of Gilbert and Anne’s relationship. 

“Diana, Anne, how are you?” Gilbert asked as he approached them. 

“We’re lovely, thank you,” Diana said. “Have you just arrived?”

Gilbert nodded. “Your family knows how to host a party. The house looks amazing,” he continued politely.

“Have you been resting?” Anne cut in, and Diana looked at her in confusion. Anne flushed. “I mean...”

“Yes,” Gilbert said. “Thank you.” He met her eyes knowingly. She thought he looked better rested than the week before, when she was afraid he’d collapse on the way home. She hated to see him exhausted and apologizing for things that weren’t his fault. There could be no friendly competition between them if Gilbert Blythe worked himself to death. 

“We were just dancing,” Diana supplied, to Anne’s dismay. 

“Oh,” Gilbert said, eyes widening. “Yes, I suppose that’s the thing to do.”

“Anne?” Diana said, looking between her and Gilbert.

Anne sighed. “Diana thinks I ought to ask you to dance,” she said. “So I’m asking.” 

A dance with Gilbert Blythe wouldn’t be anything romantical. He was her friend, and Diana was her friend, and so a dance with Gilbert would be like a dance with Diana. 

“Oh,” Gilbert repeated, looking taken aback. “No, I mean...I couldn’t...” 

“You couldn’t?” Anne said, blankly. She hadn’t expected him to refuse. But then again there she was, same old dress, same hideously red hair and ugly splattering of freckles. She wasn’t the girl any boy would want to dance with. “Of course you couldn’t,” she muttered. 

“Anne...” Diana began, but Anne shot her a look and she stopped. “I, um, hear my mother calling...excuse me.”

“You’ll have to excuse me, too,” Anne said, looking at the floor. She felt her face heating up, and tears pricking at her eyes. It wasn’t that she cared whether or not Gilbert wanted to dance with her; she’d absolutely didn’t care. It was just the surprise that came with the rejection. Something in her was certain he’d say yes. Something in her saw what Diana saw when she looked at the two of them. Part of her wanted the handsomest boy in their class to dance with her, even if it wasn’t romantic. 

“Wait, Anne.” He took her by the wrist, where the sleeve of her dress was too short. He cleared his throat and she watched his nervous expression grow cloudier and harder to read. “I very much would like to dance with you. I just can’t, because I don’t know how.” 

“Oh,” Anne replied, shoulders relaxing. 

“I have two left feet,” he explained. “I wouldn’t want to embarrass you.”

“I don’t embarrass easily,” she replied, as he shifted uncomfortably in front of her. He released her wrist hastily, with an apology. 

“I could show you,” she said. 

Gilbert Blythe laughed, and then he nodded.

They found a corner of the dance floor to begin. 

“I’ll lead, since you’re just learning. I don’t see why girls aren’t supposed to lead anyway.”

He followed her instructions diligently, even through the awkwardness of his hands on her waist and shoulder. He only stepped on her feet twice, which he apologized for profusely. 

“I knew I wouldn’t be any good,” he muttered, after the second time.

“Nonsense, you’re a quick learner. That’s what will make you an excellent medical student.”

He bit his lip. “Well, you’re a good teacher. But you deserve a partner who won’t tread on your feet.”

“I’ve already danced with Diana,” she said. “Besides, you deserve a pretty girl to dance with.” 

“I think you’re beautiful,” Gilbert said, and suddenly the air felt electric. She nearly stepped on his foot, and when she looked up at him his face was beet red, but he held her gaze. “I mean it,” he said. “I wouldn’t want to dance with anyone else.” 

“Thank you,” she said quietly. 

“Thank you for the dance,” he replied. “It’s an honor.”

The dance ended shortly after, and so did the party, when Matthew came to fetch her. She assured him that her blushing and agitated demeanor were just excess excitement and nothing worth worrying over.

 

4\. Flowers

“Don’t fall,” he called, shielding his eyes from the sun to look up at Anne in the tree branches. Her freckles were prominent and her face was glowing. She looked like she belonged up there, like she was a bird or a cloud in another life. 

“Hold on. I’m coming down,” she said, weaving gracefully between the leaves. The sleeves of her dark cardigan swayed and dipped like wings.

She stumbled through the grass to him, hair a mess and smile priceless on an almost spring day in which all of Avonlea seemed to glow. 

“I needed a higher perch to look out for you. Shall we?” She asked. 

He didn’t know how it had happened, but somehow he and Anne were having a picnic in the grass at Green Gables. She’d invited him, ostensibly, so they could trade essays to edit. It had seemed a shame, she’d explained, to spend such a gorgeous day inside the schoolhouse. She made sandwiches, which she collected in a basket she’d left at the base of the tree. 

He held out the tiny bouquet he’d collected on his way. “They reminded me of you,” he said, by way of explanation. 

She took them and buried her nose in their fragrance.

Something had changed between them since the night of the Barry family’s party. He could tell just by the easy way she accepted his gifts and the way his feelings were starting to untangle. 

Bash still said he was gone on her, and maybe Gilbert thought he was right. Maybe he didn’t deny his words so vehemently anymore. 

He spread out the picnic blanket and Anne took a cross legged seat at one side, unloading the sandwiches between them. They exchanged essays and she wove the flowers he’d given her into a crown as she read his. 

“Everyone wore flower crowns at Josephine Barry’s party,” she said, after a moment. “I think they’re so very festive and beautiful.” 

Anne put on the crown of Gilbert’s collected flowers: soft, bright wildflowers in vibrant blues and yellows and purples.

“How is Ms. Barry?” He asked, stumbling for words when she looked at him. Spring became her, so much so that he felt like flowers existed just for her to twist up into crowns. “And Cole?”

“They’re doing just fine, I think,” she said. “Cole writes. I miss him, but I’m happy he’s happy, and he feels safe. It’s important to find a place where you can be yourself.”

He thought about all the trouble she had when she first came to Avonlea. He thought about the nasty things Billy Andrews said to her, even nastier, in all likelihood, when he was out of earshot. He thought about how Anne had been unapologetically herself anyway. 

“This is good, by the way,” she said, handing back his essay. “I caught a few spelling errors.”

“Likewise,” he replied, returning hers. “It’s inspired, though.”

They ate the sandwiches and talked about school and the goings on at their respective farmsteads. Somehow they ended up cloud watching. She was doing most of the describing bits of the game. He just pointed to interesting shapes and she took off. 

“What about that one?” He asked, pointing. They were laying back on the blanket, and he rolled his head to the side to watch her study the cloud he’d selected. Her face scrunched up in comic concentration. 

“That one’s a castle, see? There are the towers and the big gate, and that wispy part? That’s the water in the moat.”

“Oh, of course. How could I have missed it?” he said, and she laughed. 

“I like to imagine that the clouds are all sorts of shapes to all sorts of people because the angels are pushing them around for the people they love to recognize.” 

He studied her expression, a sort of bittersweet almost smile. Anne seemed to gravitate between the silly and absurd to the sad and longing. 

“It hurts to think that there will always be more people to miss,” she breathed, and looked at him. “Gone forever or just gone for a little while.”

“Would you miss me...if I left again?” He asked, almost a whisper. The wind was picking up and nearly knocked her flower crown from her head. 

She nodded. “Terribly,” she grinned, voice dripping with drama. “So don’t ever be gone too long.”

And then it started to pour.

5\. Warmth

Anne managed to save their essays from the downpour. Her flower crown wasn’t so lucky. It fell in pieces through her hair and into the grass. She wondered how the clear sky and pure white clouds had turned on them so quickly as they ran to the shelter of the barn. 

“Are you okay?” Gilbert asked, once they were surrounded by the scent of hay and damp earth and he’d smoothed the dripping curls out of his face.

“I’m fine,” she said, staring out at the shower. It didn’t show signs of stopping or slowing down. Maybe Avonlea needed a good soaking, or maybe the sky needed a good cry. “Are you cold?” she asked, looking him over. He was shivering visibly.

“No,” he shot back, wrapping his arms around himself self-consciously. 

“You are,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Here, take this.” 

Anne took off her cardigan and stood on her tiptoes to drape it around his shoulders. “It’s a little wet, but it should still do the trick.”

She thought for a moment that he might take it off or get defensive about how it was supposed to be the  _ man’s  _ job to offer his coat and face the cold. But he didn’t, because he was Gilbert Blythe and he was  _ her  _ friend and he knew that antiquated notions of what boys and girls should and shouldn’t do didn’t mean a thing around her. 

“Thanks,” he said instead, pulling Anne’s cardigan to himself gently, like it was something special or breakable.

She assessed the rain’s damage, picking stray flowers from her hair and unfolding the essays from her dress pocket to check the smudging of the ink. When she was sure everything was as sorted as it could be, she took a seat in a pile of reasonably clean hay and stretched out. After a moment Gilbert sat beside her.

“I bet the rain looks beautiful on the surface of the Lake of Shining Waters, that’s what I call the Barrys’ pond. You know, that’s one of the first things I fell in love with when I came to Avonlea. Back when I thought the Cuthberts weren’t going to keep me, that’s what I said I’d miss most. I thought I’d never be happy after I’d seen all the beautiful things I could only imagine before. Even when they said they wanted to keep me and that I was like a daughter to them, I was sure something was going to happen and I’d get left without a family again.”

“Do you still think that?” Gilbert asked. There was hay in his hair and he was leaning in close to hear her over the rain. It was pounding harshly on the roof and she felt it sync with her heartbeat. She felt close to saying something too personal and too sad, even to share with a trusted friend.

“I still get scared that the people I love are going to leave me,” she said. “Maybe not Matthew or Marilla; I think they’ll be with me until the end, but other people in Avonlea. It’s my home, but that doesn’t mean it won’t turn on me.”

“I won’t,” he said.

“Well, I know  _ you  _ won’t,” she said, but she wasn’t sure she believed it. Who was to say he wouldn’t forget about her when he was a respectable young doctor? Who was to say he wouldn’t find new girls to talk to and give flowers? Who was to say they’d stay friends?

“Anne?” He said, and she realized she’d been quiet for too long. “I mean it,” he said. “I’d never leave you.”

“Okay,” she said quietly. She had the feeling that the more times he said it the easier it would become to believe.

Outside the rain had let up. Gilbert gave her back her cardigan before he said goodbye. Their hands brushed and he smiled as he ducked out of the barn and over the freshly drenched grass of Green Gables.

She tried not to feel sad as she watched him go. She’d see him tomorrow.   
  


+1 The Truth

“This is excellent work, both of you,” Ms Stacy said, as she looked over their rain stained essays after school. “I am always impressed by your ability to push each other toward mutual improvement.”

“It’s really all Anne’s doing. She’s a gifted tutor,” Gilbert said.

“So are you,” Anne fired back. “And you apply my advice quickly.” This seemed to be their new thing: replacing their previous competitive bickering with aggressive complimenting.

She stood at attention beside him, not about to back down. “He helps me with my math too. Of course your teaching has been invaluable, Ms. Stacy. I simply did not know that school could open my mind in the way that your lessons have, but Gilbert is quite apt at explaining things when I find an equation too vexing. Not to mention he…”

“Not to mention  _ she  _ has made impressive progress in math, even though she was behind when she first arrived in Avonlea. I can’t think of a single student who has grown as much as Anne has, and…”

“Alright, alright you two,” Ms. Stacy cut them off, rising from her desk and crossing to the blackboard to erase the day’s work. “I appreciate your avid support for one another, and think you make a lovely couple, but I really must send you on your way before your families start to worry.”

“A lovely couple?” Anne replied. She shook her head aggressively. “Oh, no Ms. Stacy, we’re just friends. There isn’t anything romantical going on. Tell her, Gilbert,” she commanded with a rapid hand gesture. 

“Absolutely nothing romantical,” he said firmly, hoping he didn’t sound as disappointed as he felt.

“Oh,” Ms. Stacy was arranging her papers on her desk. She looked between them for a moment. “I apologize. And to think I went on about the dangers of gossip and believing rumors,” she said, soberly.

“Our partnership is platonic as well as scholarly,” Anne said, glancing at him for affirmation, which he gave with a nod.

Ms. Stacy smiled slightly. “In any case I’m proud of you. I’ll see you tomorrow for your lessons.”

He nearly had to jog to keep up with Anne on the trip from the schoolhouse. Clearly, she didn’t want to talk about Ms. Stacy’s assumptions, but he thought the nonsense in his brain and denial in his words had gone on long enough. His heart was hammering in his chest and it had been too long since he’d told someone how he really felt.

“Anne,” he said. Her pace didn’t slow. “Can we talk about what Ms. Stacy said?”

“What’s there to talk about?  I already know you’re an excellent student. Does your ego need more compliments. I’ll happily oblige,” she said cheekily. She turned to look at him, but stopped when she saw the seriousness of his expression.

“I know we aren’t a couple,” he said. “I know we’re only friends. I just think you ought to know where I stand...where I’d like to stand, I mean.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, face paling. “You aren’t teasing me, are you?”

“Anne,” he repeated. He clenched his fists to brace himself, even digging his fingernails into his palms. The slight pain was grounding. As usual, he hadn’t thought his actions out completely before he’d begun speaking. If she reacted badly he might cry, and he didn’t want to cry in front of Anne Shirley-Cuthbert.

“No, I mean everything I’m going to say. Anne, I think you’re beautiful and smart and kind. You’re the kindest and most imaginative person I know. And you make me feel...well, safe, and at home, and like I can do the things I set my mind to doing. Because you can. I know you can. And you’ve shown me so many things: how to see beauty when if feels like there isn’t anything beautiful left to see, how to work hard when the odds are against you, how to dance. I worry that you don’t see all the things that make you special and important, but I do and I...well I’ve wanted to be more than a friend to you for a long time now, longer than I let myself realize.”

His impromptu speech left him out of breath for a second, a second where he just stared at her in her straw hat and braids and same plain dress she wore to school every day. Her eyes were big and her mouth was slightly agape, and no matter what happened next he was certain he’d have this image of her burned in his brain for the rest of his life. 

“Gil…”

“You don’t have to say anything, if you don’t want to. I know you’re never at a loss for words, but if you need some time or some space, I understand. I understand completely if you…”

“There you go again, never letting me finish,” she laughed. “I suppose that’s revenge, for all the times I’ve done the same to you,” she said. He blinked and the shock was gone from her face. She smiled, widely as the day where she’d shown him the fox, effortless as her dance steps, bright as the sun behind her when she climbed the trees in Green Gables, and warm as her gift of a cardigan and shelter from the rain.

Anne took two steps toward him, leaned in, and kissed him square on the lips. He kissed her back. It felt right, and easy and perfect. Maybe not entirely conventional.

But he’d never cared for conventional.


End file.
